


That One Week

by Wordsplat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Humor, Kid Steve Rogers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsplat/pseuds/Wordsplat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Loki is bored, bad things happen; America's favorite superhero being turned into a two-year-old bad. Toddler Steve has a strange attachment to Tony, Tony has a strict no-babies policy, and Coulson has watched way too many episodes of Supernanny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That One Week

"Oh no you don't."

"Tony, you're being ridiculous-"

"Ony?"

"I have two rules _,_ Agent; you're trying to break them both at once, and that just won't stand."

"Ony!"

"You have rules against this?" Coulson raised an eyebrow dryly.

"I don't get handed things, and I don't hold babies. It's in the Tony Stark Operation Manuel, didn't you get a copy?"

"First of all," Coulson sighed, shifting to better get a grip on the squirming child in his arms, since Tony was clearly not going to take him, "He's a toddler, not a baby."

A toddler that was pouting at Tony for attention now as Tony tried valiantly to not let the look of adorable indignation get to him.

"And second, I  _wrote_ the Tony Stark Operation Manuel, and do you know what it says? It says that if you get difficult, don't even bother arguing, just go straight to tazing. I've never done that while holding a child before, but do you really want to test me, Stark?"

Tony scoffed, busy examining the toddler's all-too-familiar eyes while he pouted adorably. He squirmed enough that Coulson had to put him down, and the toddler made a beeline for Tony, still waving his arms urgently. He slapped at Tony's Iron Man boots for attention.

"You big softie, you  _want_ to hold him, don't you?" Clint grinned cheekily, clearly noticing Tony's preoccupation.

"No," Tony lied.

"No?" the toddler seemed to realize that Tony wasn't going to hold him, and he blinked widely as his lower lip began to wobble dangerously, "No wan me, Ony?"

"No no no, I mean, I do want to hold you, kiddo, I do, I just, I don't know what to do, or where to put my hands, or how to even…" Tony babbled, trying to console the teary-eyed child, "Please,  _please_  stop crying."

"For God's sake, Stark, just pick him up already," Natasha rolled her eyes.

"But he's so…" Tony hesitated, unable to look away from the blubbering child.  _Breakable._ "…small."

"He's not that small," Bruce said thoughtfully, patting the blonde toddler on the head, "He's pretty filled out, actually, considering how frail Steve must have been the first time he was this age."

Maybe that was true, but it didn't make Tony feel any better. Not to mention that Tony had never once thought he would somehow become responsible for a suddenly two old Steve Rogers. Then again, in their line of work, just about anything was a possibility. Even Loki deciding he was bored and could get his kicks from breaking into their Tower, blindsiding them all, and turning Steve into a toddler for the week. Now he was off somewhere in the endless cosmos, surely snickering evilly.

Bastard.

"Thor," Tony turned to face the god, "How does this work, exactly?"

"I'm afraid I know little of my brother's magic," Thor explained apologetically, "He said it was only for a week, however, and I do believe he was telling the truth."

"Oh really, Loki telling the truth? What a novel concept," Tony snapped while a baby Steve attempted to crawl up his leg, "But there's nothing we can do to break it, I don't know _, now_ maybe?"

"I do not believe so. But Loki is only up to his usual mischief, I did not sense any evil intent-"

"And you're just great at that, aren't you?" Tony grouched while Steve chewed on his boot.

"My brother meant no harm," Thor insisted seriously, "I am sure the good Captain will return his rightful form within the week."

"Well that's all fine and dandy, but what am I supposed to do with him  _now?"_ Tony complained, attempting to shake Steve off, "He's  _drooling_ on me, Coulson! Coulson, make him stop!"

"Picking him up might be a start," Coulson sighed.

Steve was still pouting up at him, eyes wide and pleading, and Tony's heart fluttered in spite of his best attempts to silence it. He almost reached out a hand toward the child…then clenched it tightly.

"Nope. Can't do it."

"No Ony?" Steve whimpered, his little hands clenching as he grasped the air for Tony to pick him up.

"You're heartless, Stark," Natasha hissed, crossing the room and taking Steve in her arms. Steve squirmed and wiggled in an attempt to get back to Tony, but Natasha just bounced him, trying to silence his protests.

"It's okay, Stevey," Clint cooed at the toddler over Natasha's shoulder, wagging his finger in Steve's face, "Tony-boo is just allergic to cuteness. You're his weakness."

"Ony's lergic?"

"Yep," Clint confirmed seriously.

Steve looked confused, but he stopped squirming for Tony long enough to grab at Clint's finger and gnaw on it.

Tony sighed aggressively, spinning on his heel and walking away. He wanted nothing to do with this, no matter how much Steve's belated cries of "Ony! No go, Ony!" tugged at his heartstrings. He wasn't good with children; he never had been. He knew and accepted this fact about himself. He liked them in theory, but presented with one…well, they were small and fragile and too young to really do much of anything. Especially toddlers; they wobbled around dangerously, drooled like leaky faucets, and had just enough speech capacity to be loud and annoying but not enough to actually have a conversation with them.

Yes, toddlers were absolutely dreadful.

* * *

Really, Tony had no idea how he had gotten himself into this.

"Foun you, Ony!" a toothy Steve beamed, standing up on his tip toes to peek up over the top of the couch Tony was hiding behind.

"How'd you find me so fast?" Tony exclaimed in mock surprise.

"Rawr!" was Steve's only response as he scrambled up and over the couch, landing on Tony's back.

Tony stood up, hoisting the tiny blonde up onto his shoulders for a whirl around the rec room. He made airplane noises, then crashing sounds as he collapsed on the couch, bouncing Steve off a cushion as he did. Steve gave a happy shriek, and Tony descended upon him for a tickle attack. He froze when he caught sight of Coulson standing in the doorway, giving Tony deadpan "so-you-don't-like-kids-huh?" look.

"Screw you, Coulson."

"No-no word, Ony!" Steve smacked a pudgy hand on Tony's head in punishment.

"Ow! Jeez, cool it, small fry. What do you want, Agent?"

"I'm just wondering how in the five hours I've been in meetings, you went from looking like you were about to have a mild panic attack when he drooled on your suit, to piggyback rides and arts and crafting."

"How'd you know about the art project?"

"You have glue and sparkles in your hair."

"Oh," Tony shook his head, raining sparkles down on Steve, who giggled delightedly, "Well, Agents Catsuit and Legolas are still at SHIELD trying to track down Loki, Thor's off on Asgard doing the same, and Bruce is downstairs analyzing samples of Steve's blood, so I stepped up to the plate. Is that so hard to believe?"

Tony had asked the question with an indignant huff, but he wasn't being entirely truthful. He didn't tell Coulson about how Steve had absolutely bawled his little eyes out when Bruce took the blood sample. He didn't tell Coulson that Steve's sobs had instantly knocked down whatever wall he'd tried to put up between him and baby Steve, and Tony immediately swooped in and scooped Steve up, rocking the little boy until he settled, and basically hadn't put him down since.

"Well, has the great Tony Stark ever made mac and cheese?" Coulson held up a shopping bag, "Because that may become necessary rather quickly. Speaking of, I stopped by the store on my way back from SHIELD. I've acquired toddler appropriate foods, a couple toys, and some coloring books."

"Oh," Tony blinked, the reality of how much one tiny child could actually need beginning to hit him, "Uh, thanks."

"Don't thank me, you paid for it," Coulson smirked, tossing one of Tony's many credit cards on the kitchen table.

"…I'd ask how you got that, but I'm sure the answer is listening in the vents as we speak."

"I'm sure he is."

"Unca Hawky?" Steve looked up, as if Clint would be crawling on the ceiling.

"Good deduction, tater tot," Tony nodded, scooping the Steve up and carrying him over to the kitchen where Coulson was currently unloading the bags.

"Deduckyin?"

"It means good job," Tony simplified, planting the boy at the kitchen table, "You hungry?"

"Hungy!" Steve beamed, smacking his little hands against the table enthusiastically.

It had been discovered that Steve had trouble with his T's and occasionally R's; Tony became "ony", Aunt Tasha came out like "aun asha", which had sort of molded into "annasha", Uncle Bruce became "unca buce", and Uncle Thor was "unca or". Steve had mimicked Tony in naming Coulson and Clint, calling them "unca agen" and "unca hawky" respectively.

No one was entirely sure why Tony didn't merit an "unca" in front of his name, but then again no one was entirely sure why Steve was clinging to Tony like velcro, either. The two had been pretty close, but Steve didn't seem to have any memories of his time as an adult. Yet, he bawled any time Tony left his side. The theory the Avengers had settled on was that because Tony had been the last person Steve had seen before he'd changed, that maybe the image of Tony's face had somehow stayed with him.

So the Avengers spent the afternoon playing with their young teammate and, by proxy, Tony. After lunch, Clint and Natasha got back from SHIELD (no leads), so they all played nerf tag. Since Clint was cheating by crawling in the vents and Coulson and Natasha were cheating just by being, well, them, Tony decided it would only be fair if he was in Iron Man gear. This led to Tony scooping Steve right up into the air and out of Natasha's line of fire in the nick of time, flying them through the house in a high-speed escape that had Steve shrieking in delight. Clint got pissed and claimed Tony was cheating though, so when Tony put Steve down for a moment, Clint stole the toddler away in gleeful retribution.

Steve, the moment he realized he was being separated from Tony, absolutely  _wailed._

This was loud and obnoxious and not at all appreciated by Natasha, who promptly threw Clint (literally) in the naughty corner for cheating and baby-theft. Clint accused Tony of cheating first, and Tony shot back that Clint should stay out of the god damn vents then, and Steve promptly declared "Ony said a no-no word! Ony go no-no corner now?"

Natasha, all too willing to oblige, shooed Tony off to the no-no corner.

While Tony and Clint pouted in the newly designated no-no corner, Natasha brought out the coloring books. It was around this time that Thor returned (also without any leads) and gleefully joined them for art time. Tony was about to leave the no-no corner, declaring it stupid and unnecessary, but Steve was insistent, something about "Ony no see, Ony no see!" while all but climbing onto the table in an effort to cover his drawing. So Tony reluctantly stayed in the no-no corner, alternating his time between checking on Steve over his shoulder and exchanging increasingly creative death threats with Clint under his breath.

"Ony, Ony look!" Steve ran up to him then, holding up his drawing proudly.

It wasn't exactly legible-the kid was two, after all-but the bright red and gold colors that dominated the page made it fairly obvious what the subject of his scribble was. Somewhere amidst the red and gold was a little blue form with yellow hair, and Tony smiled.

"You savin' me!" Steve beamed, and Tony pulled the little bundle of sunshine into a hug.

"Tony saved you, huh?" Clint snickered. Tony silenced him with a glare, while Steve looked up at Tony with big blue eyes.

"Yup! Ony always saves me!"

Tony didn't know what to make of that. Did Steve remember some things, then? The times they'd fought together as a team? It didn't seem likely; Steve sounded like any other two year old right now. It was likely he had some vague impression of his past, which would explain why he wasn't freaked out by so many strangers. Toddler Steve seemed to trust them all instinctively if nothing else, and that was something to be grateful for, at least.

After coloring time, Bruce suggested a trip to the park. They brought pizza for themselves and a meal of chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, and steamed vegetables for Steve. Steve devoured the nuggets and mac and cheese, but steadfastly refused to eat his vegetables.

"Dun wanna."

"C'mon Steve, veggies are yummy," Bruce tried, "I made them just for you, so you can get big and strong again."

"Dun  _wanna,_  Unca Buce!"

"He didn't get a nap," Natasha sighed, "And it's getting late. He's probably tired."

"No! No tired, Annasha!"

"Sure you aren't," Coulson rolled his eyes, careful to keep one eye on Clint, who was currently scaring the hell out of the other kids from his perch at the very peak of the play structure.

"Ony din'n have veg'ables!" Steve protested, crossing his chubby little arms.

"Tony  _loves_ his vegetables," Natasha jumped on the chance, sliding Steve's plate over to Tony, "In fact, I bet he'd love to eat yours right up, wouldn't you, Tony?"

"Um."

" _Wouldn't you, Tony?"_

"Uh, yep. Love em," Tony popped a cucumber slice into his mouth, "Mmm."

"Ony made a yucky face!" Steve accused, "Ony dun like em neither!"

"No, I love veggies, mmm, so good. Could eat these all day," Tony quickly ate a handful more, "See? Yummy yummy."

Steve regarded Tony with narrowed eyes, clearly suspicious.

"Dey good?"

"Very good…so good, I might have to steal some more…" Tony pretended to make a move on the rest of Steve's veggies.

"No!" Steve gasped, stealing his plate back and shooting Tony a reproachful look, "Bad Ony, da's my food!"

"You'll have to eat fast to keep it away from me, squirt," Tony grinned, ruffling Steve's wispy blonde hair while Steve quickly gulped down the veggies.

After they finished feeding and tiring Steve out, the little guy fell asleep on Tony's shoulder. They took him home and Tony tucked him into his old bed, and couldn't help but marvel at how small the toddler looked in Steve's large bed. Though Tony was usually up pretty late, he found himself exhausted by what had turned out to be an impossibly long day of running around, even for an Avenger.

He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Cold.

It was so cold, a chill that drove straight into bone and buried there, solidifying like a never-melting ice. Images flashed, the smell of smoke and gunpowder and dried blood weaving through it all.

Chaos reigned, and soldiers fell to the ground amidst a firestorm of blood and bullets. A mask of skin pulled and stretched away to reveal bone stained blood-red and eyes screaming  _what made you so special?_ A single outstretched hand reaching, slipping, falling. Scream after scream, drink after drink, and still there was nothing, nothing,  _nothing._ A blue, effervescent glow, first a cube falling to the ocean, then a metallic stick playing tricks with his mind, finally a triangle embedded in a chest, rebirth for a man who had given up on his own heart.

Steve woke then, gasping for air like he'd never had it before, the nameless, faceless screams still echoing in his ears. Steve gripping his sheets tightly, tears streaming down his face. He didn't like his big boy bed. Too big, too empty, too cold. He crawled out and toddled down the hallway, searching for something. His mind was too fogged with sleep and fear to draw a name, but a soft blue triangle of light glowed in his mind, and he found himself drawn to the bedroom at the top of the tower.

Tony had never been a particularly heavy sleeper, so when his door opened and someone very small came into his room, he stirred.

"Hm? Munchkin, what're you doing out of-" he promptly stopped speaking when he heard Steve's heart-breaking whimpers. He was instantly awake, sitting up and throwing back the covers, "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"

Steve wasn't even able to reply, he just broke out sobbing again, wailing inconsolably as Tony pulled the little guy into his arms.

"Shh, shh, it's okay buddy. Hey, it's okay…you're okay, I promise, you're okay, I won't let anything bad happen to you, alright?"

When Steve finally managed to calm down, Tony started to lead him back down the hall to his bed; Steve freaked out again.

"No! Wan you, Ony! Dun make me go!" Steve cried, clinging to Tony with all his might, "Dun wanna go, Ony, wan be with you!"

"Come on, then," Tony gave in, helping Steve into the bed.

He tucked the child under the covers and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, murmuring goodnight. Steve stayed quiet for a long while aside from a little sniffle here and there, and Tony almost thought the boy was asleep, when he piped up.

"Ony?"

"Yeah?"

"You gunna save me always, Ony?"

There was a long pause, and Tony hesitantly curled an arm around the small boy protectively.

"Yeah. Always, Steve."

* * *

Steve had nightmares every night for the entire week.

Every night, he sought out Tony. By the second or third night, Tony found himself waiting for the pitter patter of little feet down the hallway, for a small, hesitant head to poke in the doorframe, for the tiny body to curl up next to him and ask the same question. His reply to the question was the only time Tony ever called the toddler 'Steve', any other time it just felt weird and surreal. Though Tony tried not to give it too much thought, he knew why he could call him 'Steve' then-because he _would_  always save Steve, whatever form he was in. Be it from supervillains or nightmares, Tony had his friend's back. He may or may not have had a slightly, obnoxiously painful crush on said friend, but no one needed to know that.

And if he appreciated the company too, well, no one needed to know that, either.

Weirdly enough, it turned out that when they combined forces, the Avengers made a pretty good child-rearing team. Clint showed Steve how to crawl through the vents like a pro and played hide-and-seek with him for hours. Natasha was his drawing buddy, and by the end of the week there were so many scribbles Tony had to buy heavy duty magnets to hold them up. Bruce read to Steve for hours at a time, Thor played all the you-can't-catch-me games the others didn't have the energy for, and Coulson turned out to be a kiddie food master chef. Coulson had run bath time too, until Tony made one too many supernanny jokes and got saddled with the job himself.

And Tony? Well.

Tony was Steve's security blanket. Steve rarely let go of Tony, and though Tony claimed otherwise, he didn't like being separated from the toddler either. Tony spoiled the child utterly rotten; he helped Steve sneak veggies off his plate, let him stay up past his bedtime watching Disney movies, and bought him an absolutely unbelievable amount of toys. His method of toy buying was to take Steve to the store, strap him safely in the cart, and then wander down the aisle and whenever Steve pointed at something, throw it in the cart.

This ridiculous spoiling was what the Avengers expected; Tony being Tony, throwing his money around and skirting the rules. What they didn't expect, however, was everything else. Because everything the other Avengers did, Tony did and more. He played every game of hide-and-seek and tag and chase, was present for every art time and book reading, saddled Steve up for every trip to the park, the store, the mall. He fed every meal, gave every bath, cleaned every mess; he made Steve forts out of couch cushions, took him camping in the backyard, and watched an utterly unbelievable amount of Disney movies on repeat. He let Steve in his workshop, babbled to him for hours, and he when he found Steve drawing on his Iron Man armor in permanent marker,  _he just_   _shrugged._

After that, it was a point of heavy discussion whether or not Tony was just a softie or if he'd recently suffered a blow to the head.

* * *

When Steve woke up, he had no idea where he was.

A cursory look around the room revealed a sparse bedroom. It was so clean and basically empty that Steve almost labeled it a guest room, until he caught sight of the desk in the corner, complete with holoscreens and technogear galore. Tony's room, then. So he was in Tony's bed. As in, Tony Stark. His teammate. His friend. The guy he happened to have a rather embarrassingly large crush on.

Well, this was unbearably awkward.

Steve quickly disentangled himself from the sheets and slipped out of the room, only to pause in the hallway. What in the Sam Heck was he wearing? Were these  _Iron Man footie pajamas?_ Lord Almighty, if Tony saw him right now he would never, ever let Steve live it down. Where had he even  _gotten_ these? And what on earth had possessed him to wear them? Steve broke into a sprint down the hallway, sliding on the floor as he scrambled to get back to his room before anyone saw him.

He raided his closet, changing into normal clothes in a mad rush and stashing the pajamas-seriously, where could you even buy adult-sized footie pajamas?-as far into the back of his closet as he could. Once he finished changing, he stepped out of his closet and stopped dead.

Holy heck, it looked like Toys R Us had opened up shop in his bedroom.

Toys absolutely  _covered_ his floor. There were hundreds of them, mostly Avengers-themed, but plenty of stuffed animals and construction toys and kids books too, lots of kids books. There was paper everywhere too, and as Steve stepped forward he almost stepped on one. He picked it up instead, a crazy jumble of color-red and gold was predominant, but there was plenty of blue, some purple and black blobs, a big green splotch, and a flying yellow blob.

Was this…the team?

What was going  _on_ here? Who had kept a kid in his room? Is that why he'd woken up in Tony's bed, because a kid had been in his? But then, why had he been wearing those ridiculous pajamas? Not to mention, why couldn't he remember last night in the first place? He needed to sit down.

Tony's voice came on over the PA system.

"Munchkin, if you don't get your lazy tush out of bed and downstairs in the next five minutes, I'm gonna eat all your pancakes!"

Steve, confused but curious, went downstairs.

"Oh wow. Who  _is_ this kid, and how did they get  _Tony Stark_ to cook them food?" Steve blinked widely as he took in the state of the kitchen.

The place was a mess. Plates of lumpy-looking pancakes, bowls of scrambled eggs and misshapen looking fruit, and a platter of burnt bacon covered the table. Five or six bowls laid around, some spilt on the floor, others crowding the sink, and one in Tony's hand, pancake batter leaking out of it and down his shirtfront. Ingredients were everywhere-butter and sugar scattered across the table, dusty clouds of flour on the floor, cracked eggshells dropping down the counter-and of course there was syrup in every possible nook and cranny. In the midst of it all, Tony was frozen wearing a 'Kiss Me, I Saved the Earth' apron, batter smeared across his face and syrup stuck in his hair, and he was staring at Steve like he'd grown a second head.

" _Steve?"_

"Yes?"

"You're  _old!_ " Tony accused, waving a spatula at him wildly.

"…you're older than I am…" Steve frowned, vaguely offended.

"No, I mean…you're… _you._  You're not…" Tony bent down, holding his hand at knee height, "Y'know. Tiny."

"I haven't been in a while," Steve raised an eyebrow.

"You really don't remember, do you?" Tony blinked, putting down the bowl of batter to cross the kitchen and observe Steve warily.

"Remember…?"

"Huh," Tony remarked, poking and prodding at Steve, "When I left you in bed, you were still-"

"When you  _what?"_ Steve blurted out, a blush rising to his cheeks, "You were  _there?_ "

"Well," Tony blinked, confused, "Yeah. I sleep there."

"You slept  _with me?"_

"No need to make it sound all dirty, Steve," Tony chastised with a click of his tongue, "You were a toddler."

"I wasn't trying to…wait,  _what?_ "

"Yeah. Loki turned you into a toddler after the last battle, and we've been taking care of you for the week."

"By 'we', he means your tiny butt had him on a leash for a week," Clint announced, entering the room and clapping Steve on the shoulder, "Good to have you back, Captain. Tony, man, your pancakes are on fire again, you gotta watch that."

"Shoot," Tony sprinted across the room, sliding to a stop in front of the griddle and attempting to wave the flames out. This didn't help, and eventually Tony just dumped a glass of water on them, "We're good!"

"I was a…toddler?" Steve asked Clint, joining him at the kitchen table where the master assassin was going to town on the bacon platter, but it was Natasha who answered.

"Weirder things have happened to us," she shrugged as she entered, grabbing a plate and some pancakes, "And Stark was almost nice for a while there, so it wasn't all bad."

"Hey," Tony turned and waved a batter-coated spatula in Natasha's direction, splattering more batter everywhere, "I am nothing more than a heartless hell-raiser and I am insulted that you would implicate otherwise."

"Please," Clint snorted, "You went full-on domestic, man. Stevey-boy here carted you around like you were his own personal fucking teddy bear."

"That's a no-no word Barton, off the corner," Tony reprimanded him as he put the next plate on pancakes down on the table, then promptly froze. There was a long pause as everyone stared at him and he stared right back. For the first time Steve had ever seen, Tony  _blushed,_ "Okay, to be fair, I only found out Steve wasn't two anymore like a minute ago, so you know what,  _fuck_  you guys."

"Off to the no-no corner with you, Stark," Clint snickered, and Tony made a swipe at him with the spatula.

"Fuck off, Barton."

"So you really don't remember anything?" Natasha ignored both Clint and Tony, instead turning her attention to Steve, who shrugged.

"I remember Loki, I think," Steve rubbed his forehead, trying to grasp at the wisps of memory, "He just appeared in here, didn't he?"

"Yeah, the bastard. I've been working on some magic-blocking defenses for the Tower since then, but it's slow going," Tony shook his head, "I'd need more information about the specific signatures he gives off when he pulls his teleportation shtick. I got some readouts from his visit, but they're not proving particularly helpful."

"Not to mention Stark hasn't actually been in the workshop for more than an hour all week," Coulson added as he entered the kitchen, "So he probably hasn't had time to fully examine them, if I'm right."

"I've been busy, cut a guy some slack," Tony grumbled.

"Busy coloring and eating spongebob-shaped mac and cheese all week," Clint rolled his eyes.

"They taste better, okay? I'm serious! Squirt agrees with me, don't…you," the tail-end of Tony's sentence fell flat as it became clear that Steve, in all his super-soldier-enhanced glory, was no 'squirt', "Uh. Right. Well, whatever. As you said, I have work to do anyway. So I'm gonna go. Do that. Now."

Tony was hustling out of the kitchen then, his apron thrown carelessly on top of the counter, almost knocking one of the bowls onto the floor.

"The end of an era," Clint shook his head remorsefully, "That One Week Tony Stark Was A Normal Human Being."

"It was a good week," Coulson gave a slight hum of agreement as he brewed himself a cup of coffee. Steve just dismissed all the crazy around him with a shake of his head, and started to fill his plate.

His life had taken weirder turns than this before, and, well, he was hungry.

After that, things returned to normal around Avengers Tower; at least, as normal things could be around there. Tony made a few slips in the first few days, accidentally calling Steve 'munchkin' or 'squirt', but by the third day things had all been settled. The toys had been sold, the pictures taken down (stuffed away for safe-keeping in Tony's desk drawer, but no one needed to know that), and Steve and Tony reverted to their normal friendship without any issues.

* * *

Cold.

Steve woke up gasping for air, choking on it as the echoes of his bloody, war-torn dreams still shook his mind. Flashes of it still hit him when he closed his eyes, blood and smoke and ice, always ice, always waiting to overtake him. He threw back his cover and was off down the hall before he could think about where his feet were taking him. His mind was fogged with sleep and panic and he was still shaking, still hyperventilating from the absolute _horrors_  of his nightmares as he raced down the hall, and before he knew it he was throwing open the door to Tony's bedroom.

"Steve?" Tony questioned, hearing him enter.

"Uh," Steve's voice was rough, with sleep and something else, the line between nightmare and reality still not clear enough, "Yeah."

"Are you…okay?"

Had Steve been awake and thinking clearly, he would have noticed how quickly Tony had woken up upon hearing him enter, almost like he'd been expecting it. Had he been awake, he would have noticed that Tony sounded cautious, unsure how to react. But Steve wasn't fully awake; he was still caught in the grip of his nightmares, panicked and scared out of his mind. He didn't even know why he was here, just knew that he wanted to crawl into bed with Tony and curl up against him and watch the blue glow of the arc reactor until it lulled him to sleep, while Tony brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead like he always did, telling Steve he would save him always.

He didn't know where those thoughts came from; he knew they were probably another delusion, something else he was dreaming up or wishing for but he didn't  _care,_ he was exhausted and he was scared and before he knew it he was slipping into bed with Tony, curling up against him without pause. Tony hesitated, holding his breath a moment, clearly caught by surprise. It was only a brief moment, however, before he gave in and tentatively wrapped his arm around Steve's still shaking frame. The arc reactor hummed against Steve's cheek, and it was familiar and soothing and all at once Steve could feel himself let go, relax. After another moment, Tony pressed a gentle, cautious kiss to Steve's forehead, before brushing back the wispy blonde hairs that strayed there.

"Always, Tony?" Steve murmured, the words slipping out before his rational mind could question why.

There was a very long pause. Steve was almost asleep when he answered, and didn't hear the tremor in Tony's voice, a quiet whisper, fragile as glass.

"Always, Steve."

* * *

When Steve woke up, there was an arm around his waist.

It took him longer than it should have to find a problem with that. When he finally did, he began to disentangle himself cautiously, trying to be quiet, trying to stop blushing. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, he could handle his nightmares on his own without bothering Tony about it. What on earth had  _possessed_ him to climb into Tony's  _bed?_  The more Steve began remembering about last night, the worse it got. Had he really snuggled up into Tony Stark's chest?

And had Tony…let him?

"Mm…Steve?" Tony's arm tightened around him, his hand flush against Steve's abdomen.

"Uh."

Steve could have smacked himself. Way to be articulate, Rogers.

"Oh," Tony blinked, suddenly seeming to realize what was under his fingertips as they brushed Steve's abs, " _Steve."_

"That's me," Steve was sure that his embarrassed blush was crawling all the way down his neck at this point.

"Sorry. You, just, came in, and I didn't…" Tony was rambling, almost stuttering over his words as he quickly released his arm from around Steve's waist, "I didn't think about it, I kind of, I mean, you used to…"

On those last words, Tony's voice cracked, a startling amount of loss in them. Steve couldn't stop himself from turning over, facing Tony to see he was hearing things in Tony's voice that weren't there. Tony looked vulnerable, something Steve didn't usually associate with the man.

"I got used to the company, I guess," Tony wasn't making eye contact with Steve then, his chin down and a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Why did you take care of me?" Steve asked. Maybe it wasn't the perfect time to ask, but the question had been burning in his mind since he'd discovered all that Tony had done.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not always a complete jackass, Rogers," anger suddenly colored his voice, and Tony turned away, moving to get out of the bed. Before he could think about it, Steve grabbed him by the arm.

"No, wait," to Steve's surprise, Tony paused. His back was still to Steve, but he didn't move any farther away, "Please, that's not what I meant. I just…I feel bad that you had to do that for me. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize," Tony sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair in a way that did particularly warm, pleasant things to Steve's stomach, "You kind of latched on to me that first day and never really let go. I got used to the company more than I should have, is all. It's not your fault."

"I…latched on to you?"

"Like velco. Guess it was just a disappointment that the real Steve didn't like me quite as much," the moment the words were out, Tony groaned and clapped a hand over his mouth, mumbling through his fingers, "Fuck. Coffee. I need some fucking coffee."

Tony was up and out of the bed in an instant, power-walking for the door, but Steve was just as fast, and he took Tony by the arm again.

"Hey, wait," Steve held him in place, "You don't think I like you?"

"Jesus, it's too early for this," Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to worm his way out of the question, "Really, let's just forget about this and get some breakfa-"

"Tony, I like you  _too_ much," the words were out of his mouth before he could think about them, and God help him, he kept talking, like a snowball down a hill, he just couldn't  _stop,_ "I like you so much I don't know what to do with myself. I try to act normal and give you space, but you just make it so damn  _difficult,_  I-"

"Did you just swear?" Tony remarked in amusement, and Steve was far too embarrassed at this point to notice the absolutely  _huge_ grin that accompanied his statement.

"Tony, I'm  _trying_ to tell you something here, if you could be serious for all of thirty seconds, I would really appreciate-wow, you're really close right now, what are you-"

Then Tony reached up and tugged Steve down by the collar of his nightshirt, effectively cutting off any further babbling with a searing kiss. Steve froze in place, a single thought bouncing around in his head;  _is Tony kissing me?_ Tony's hands moved from his collar to around his neck, and just as Steve was about to melt, to kiss back, Tony pulled away. Steve leaned forward, trailing after Tony's lips, objecting to the loss of contact.

"Did I just break Captain America?" Tony raised an eyebrow, and though his words were light, his eyes were clearly terrified he had misread a sign somewhere.

"Shut up, Tony," Steve remarked fondly as he reclaimed Tony's mouth with his.

There was a loud thump overhead suddenly, and both men stilled.

"Fuck," a familiar voice grouched, then, "Well. Aren't either of you going to ask if I'm okay?"

"You're not going to be okay when I'm through with you, Barton," Tony snapped, grabbing a pen off his desk and chucking it up at the vent grate above.

"Relax, tin man," Clint's voice echoed through the vent, "Since I'm sure you've very concerned, it was only a bump, and I only got it cause you two kissing is grosser than expected. Which is saying something."

" _Goodbye, Barton._ "

"Also, congratulations on getting your heads out of your asses!" Clint called, his voice growing smaller as he escaped, crawling off in some other direction.

"I really am going to kill him one of these days," Tony huffed.

Steve simply answered with a smile, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist and pulling him back in where he belonged.


End file.
